


Red Handed

by heeroluva



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Caught, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Fingerfucking, Fisting, M/M, Masturbation, Seduction, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: Geralt waits in the toy shop for Dettlaff instead of Regis and has an unconventional plan to gain his attention.





	Red Handed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).



Geralt has done a lot of stupid things in his life, but this is easily one of dumbest. He’s not fool enough to believe that he can take Dettlaff on even with his considerable abilities. High vampires are in a league well beyond what Geralt is used to fighting. He’s seen Regis in action, and Geralt knows that if not for Regis’ intervention in the warehouse, he’d have likely been dead. Regis had said that Dettlaff would sense him from a mile off and simply not appear, but Geralt has a plan and is counting on Dettlaff to be the curious sort for this to work.

Setting his swords aside, he strips himself of his armor first then his gambeson and underwear, eying the dusty bed with distaste before he sits on it. It’s not the worst accommodations he’s had by far as it doesn’t stink or seem to be infested with anything. Reaching into his bag, he pulls out a bottle of oil and sets it beside him. He reclines against the wall and curls his fingers around his soft cock, gentling squeezing the sensitive flesh, moaning softly as it starts to fill with blood at the attention.

It’s been a while since Geralt has done this, set out with the plan to make this last instead of seeking a quick release. He reaches for the oil, the sharp scent hitting him and causing his blood to quicken with anticipation as he pours a generous amount over his fingers. He sighs as he starts to stroke himself, twisting his hand on the upstroke to massage the base of the head of his cock in the way that he loves. His other hand reaches to pluck at a sensitive nipple, squeezing it as his cock jerks and leaks beneath, precum beginning to leak over his slick fingers.

Geralt slides down further, spreading his legs, hand dropping to massage his heavy balls for a moment before they trail further down, nudging at his asshole. It’s been quite a while since he’s been fucked, which is a pity given how much he enjoys it. He massages the tight pucker and draws a deep breath, forcing himself to relax before he carefully pushes two wet fingers in. He hisses at the burn, but shit, he always forgets how good this is, and he’s barely started.

Crooking his fingers, he seeks out his prostate, breathing growing quicker as he massages that swelling spot, his cock leaking against his stomach. He starts slow at first, withdrawing his finger before pressing back in, coaxing his hole to open, loving the stretch, the fullness, when up until that moment he hadn’t considered himself empty.

Geralt’s hand moves to his other nipple, squeezing the neglected nub as he ignores his cock. It’s not long before he’s really fucking into himself, fingers pounding, the slick sound lewd and loud in the empty room. He slips his pinky in, sinking his four fingers into his greedy hole, and bites his lip as he fights the urge to come. Not yet. Blood wells from his lip, dripping down his chin onto his chest, and between one breath and the next Geralt is not alone.

“Well, Witcher if you were seeking my attention, you’ve certainly got it.”

Heart racing, Geralt smiles crookedly at Dettlaff, who’s now sitting at the foot of the bed as he continues to finger himself, slowing the pace, but not stopping. He spreads his fingers wide and pushes up on his heels, showing the stretch of his hole, “Regis said you wouldn’t show yourself if I was here, so I decided to get creative. Seems it worked.”

Dettlaff’s eyes seem to burn with an inner fire as they slip down Geralt’s scarred body, following the trail of blood until his eyes finally stop at Geralt’s spread hole, watching as he continues to fuck himself. He moves too fast for Geralt to see as he finds himself stretched out fully on his back, hands easily held above his head as Dettlaff replaces Geralt’s fingers with his own. They both groan. “This is a dangerous offer, Witcher.”

“I happen to like dangerous men.”

Dettlaff’s eyes are suddenly black, his tongue inhumanly long as he moves faster than Geralt can see, leaning over him, tongue tracing the line of blood trailing down Geralt’s torso, until his mouth meets Geralt’s own, his tongue delving inside. They both moan, Geralt’s hand sinking into Dettlaff’s hair, holding him close as he’s consumed. Geralt’s eyes flutter shut as Dettlaff maps the inside of Geralt’s mouth, his tongue doing wicked things as his sharp teeth snag at Geralt’s lip, the sharp taste of blood exploding in their mouths once more.

When Dettlaff pulls back slowly, clearly reluctant, Geralt is panting, his mouth swollen and red and wet. There is barely an inch between their lips as Dettlaff rumbles, “I’m no man.”

Geralt’s smile is sharp as he knots his fingers in Dettlaff’s hair and yanks. “Prove it.”

Between one heartbeat and the next, Geralt is dragged down full against the bed, Dettlaff settling between Geralt’s spread thighs, pressing heavily against him, fingers shoving in alongside his own, forcing his hole to spread even wider, and sharp fangs bury themselves deeper into the curve of his neck. Geralt’s eyes go wide, his mouth opening in a silent shout, back arching as he comes untouched, his cock spurting between their bodies against Dettlaff’s clothed form.

It’s far from the first time that Geralt’s been bitten, that some creature has been after his blood, but it’s never been like this. Each fang buried within his flesh is an unignorable sharp stab of pain, but each drawn of Dettlaff’s mouth against the leaking wound, the flow of his blood into Dettlaff’s body is like a magic mouth on his cock, drawing his orgasm out ad infinitum.

The world’s gone soft and fuzzy around the edges when Dettlaff pulls his fangs back, nursing softly for a moment before his tongue laves over the bite until the bleeding stops. Geralt is boneless and breathing heavily, his own arms limp at his side as Dettlaff continues to fuck his fingers into Geralt’s slick hole. When Dettlaff suddenly cones his hand and slips his thumb in along his fingers, pressing deeper, Geralt hisses before cursing viciously.

Spreading his thighs wider, Geralt draws back his knees and pushes himself up on his elbows as Dettlaff slips his entire hand inside of Geralt, filling him to overflowing and then some. His hole clenches around the intrusion, and his cock slowly thickens as Dettlaff’s knuckles press against his prostate when he curls his fingers into a fist. Dettlaff’s free hand is pressing against the considerable bulge in his trousers, and Geralt smirks at the knowledge that Dettlaff isn’t so unaffected. “That all you got?”

Dettlaff’s smile is bloody as he leans forward, capturing Geralt’s mouth again. “Careful what you ask for, witcher.” More slick fingers probe at Geralt’s stretched hole, before sliding in alongside the wrists already filling him.

Geralt wrenches his head back with a gasp at the sharp burn, as his rim strains to accept the intrusion. “Fuck.”

“I’m impressed, witcher. Humans are so very breakable, yet you are proving to be remarkably resilient. I only wish I had enough time to savor you.” Dettlaff slips his other hand in suddenly, and Geralt can’t help the wrecked sound that slips from his mouth, his cock leaking copiously against his wet stomach.

Geralt struggles for words as his body struggles to accept the unbelievable intrusion, having never been stuffed so full, barely able to believe that he’s able to take so much. “We know you’re being blackmailed. We can help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Dettlaff doesn’t answer, instead slides first one first deeper before pulling it back and repeating it with the other. Geralt groans as the pace increases, as he’s well and truly fucked.

“I had not realized witchers were so very noble. Do not worry yourself on these matters. They will be over soon.”

Geralt presses his foot against the bulge Dettlaff’s pants, rubbing against the swell, pleased to see the way his eyes flutter, his rhythm falters. He’s not certain how his voice is so calm, how he can talk so evenly as he says, “Can’t rightly say I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I was hired to do a job.”

“Do all your contracts get rewarded to a sight such as this?” Dettlaff leans down and licks a stripe across the length of Geralt’s cock, his hands never stopping there movements.

“Only the pretty ones.”

Dettlaff barks out a laugh, the sound turning into a moan as Geralt continues to rub his foot against him. Dettlaff shudders for a moment, his hands jerking within Geralt, drawing a moan from his as well, before he shudders and comes in his pants.

It’s that instant that Regis shows up, materializing beside them, his eyes darting between Geralt’s and Dettlaff’s faces then to where Dettlaff has Geralt spread so full. “Well, I can’t say I postulated anything like this, but I’m pleased to see you two getting along so marvelously.”

Geralt can do little more than collapse backwards against the bed and laugh. Head turning to the side, a smile still on his lips, his eyes slide over Regis appraisingly as he notes the bulge in his pants. “Planning on joining us?” 

There’s no hesitation in Regis’ movements as he methodologically strips out of each piece of clothing, folding and setting each aside until he’s completely bare. 

Dettlaff makes a low sound suddenly, and Regis’ nostrils flare, his eyes going dark. Regis moves faster than Geralt can follow, straddling Dettlaff’s lap, the bed groaning suddenly at the extra weigh. Geralt watches appreciatively as they kiss, fangs growing and blood flowing. His hand goes to his neglected cock, giving it a squeeze as he clenches around the hands that have stilled within them. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the show…” Geralt trails off as they both turn to look at him, bloodied faces twisted into something wild and untamable. As one, they descend upon Geralt, one mouth dropping to the mark on his neck, sharp teeth dragging over the sensitive skin, both a threat and a tease, the other swallowing his cock down, drawing a shout from him as Dettlaff’s hands resume moving within him. 

As Regis’ fangs oh so slowly sink into Geralt’s flesh, his balls draw up, his hips surge upward as he spurts down Dettlaff’s throat. The world goes soft and fuzzy at the edges as he trembles with each hungry draw of his blood before his vision starts to darken as his heart strains. He opens his mouth to protest, but all he can do is gasp out, “Regis.” 

Regis pulls away immediately, face feral, mouth red with Geralt’s blood that drips down his chin. A curse sounds from out of sight, and the last thing Geralt sees is Regis’ now worried face as the world goes dark.


End file.
